Late Night Bond-ing
by Kimmy the Geek
Summary: The title pretty much sums it up I think. (Jimmy/Yves fic)


"I can't believe this," she muttered as the silver convertible came into view

Title: Late Night Bond-ing (1/1)

Author: Kimmy the Geek

Rating: PG  
Keywords: LGM, Jimmy/Yves  
Summary: The title pretty much sums it up I think.

Disclaimer: Characters are owned by 20th Century Fox, 1013, and CC. But since they're homeless now, can I have them? g

Author's Notes: at the end

***

Great Falls, VA

11:41 pm

"I can't believe this," she muttered as the silver convertible came into view. With murder in her eyes, she snatched the keys from the alarmed attendant and threw her silk wrap in the backseat. Standing with her hands planted against the door, she took a few deep breaths, willing herself to calm down as familiar footsteps approached.

"Yves? Yves, I'm *really* sorry. I know this was a big story-"

"A big story?!" She spun on one precariously high heel to face him. "Jimmy, this was an incredible opportunity! We'll never get this close to getting that disk from Senator Matthews again!"

The wounded look on his face quickly deflated her hostility. She swore to herself. Must be losing my edge, she lamented. Sighing, she settled heavily against the cool metal.

Jimmy imitated her stance, crossing his arms and studying the pavement in front of them.

From the open windows, music and muted conversations floated past, oblivious to their sudden absence from the festivities. At least we don't have to make a quick getaway this time, she noted. The best laid plans . . .

As she wearily rubbed her temples, exhaustion suddenly hit her. "C'mon," she sighed, "I'll take you home."

The view from the Beltway at night was pretty much the same wherever you were . . . which left Jimmy idly wondering whether they had crossed into Maryland yet. Not that he was really paying attention. All he was thinking of was the woman sitting next to him . . . and how strangely she was acting tonight. He just couldn't figure her out sometimes.

By now, he thought he knew the drill. He'd screw up something. She'd yell at him. Make him feel lower than dirt. Then drive away without a second glance.

The fact that she went and changed the rulebook tonight worried him.

He sighed and fiddled with the ends of his now-undone bow tie. The mission sounded so great in the beginning. Pretending she was his date, recovering a stolen disk . . . now the whole evening was a bust.

Risking a look, he noticed how tired she seemed . . . and a little sad. He had to say something. "Yves, I-"

"Don't . . . please." She couldn't bear another apology – not now. She simply wanted a hot bath, to crawl into bed, and forget this evening ever happened.

The intermittent splashes of light on the asphalt and the hum of the engine were mesmerizing and she welcomed the distraction.

She wasn't sure how much time had passed when a soft voice startled her out of her reverie. "Turn here."

She threw a questioning glance at her passenger who simply nodded toward the upcoming exit for Bethesda.

"I want to show you something."

After a myriad of houses and winding roads, a large brick fence came into view, set back from the street a bit. As they pulled up to the wrought iron gate, Jimmy motioned toward the keypad off the driver's side. "4-3-2-1."

After a moment's hesitation, she punched in the code and the gate silently allowed them entry. Rounding a darkened curve, she felt her jaw drop. Nestled in a grove of trees was an enormous two-story brick house – a mansion really. Floodlights illuminated massive white pillars framing the entryway. Carefully manicured greenery extended along each side of the house, ending in curved porticos supported by more white pillars, barely visible in the growing shadows.

Coming to a stop in front of the slate walkway, she sat in stunned silence. "This is yours?" she breathed after a moment.

"Yeah." He had already gotten out of the car, heading for the front door. "Wanna see?"

The foyer of Senator Matthews' home paled in comparison. The hardwood floors and vaulted ceiling of the main hall gave way to smaller, but no less impressive rooms on each side. To the left was a parlor with large draped windows and a fireplace in the center. Off to the right was a den – or perhaps a library – with dark wood paneling on the spaces not covered by the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. On either side of the main sweeping staircase, two identical hallways stretched into the darkness.

Her footsteps echoed as she slowly turned in the center of the room. The long slit on the side of her dress parted a little with each step she took.

Jimmy tried not to notice. He really did.

She finally stopped to face him standing near the foot of the stairs. "This is *yours***.**" It was still more of a question than a statement.

The obvious look of shock on her face almost made him laugh. But instead, he merely shrugged. "My great-grandfather owned this house. Well, the original house anyway. By the time my father owned it, it was three times that size. After he died I inherited the whole thing." He looked around wearily. "It's way too much for me, but I'd just feel bad selling it. You know . . . keeping it in the family and all."

She opened her mouth slightly, as if to say something, but simply closed it again and nodded. Flicking a switch, he motioned her to follow him down one of the previously darkened hallways.

"This is my favorite spot," he explained as they stepped out onto a terrace that stretched along the entire back of the house.

In the darkness, she could just make out the sprawling lawn with what appeared to be a reflecting pool down the center. The moon's image seemed to dance along the surface of the water while a row of trees rustled in the light breeze. "It's beautiful, Jimmy," she breathed.

"I used to spend hours just looking up at the stars. I dunno . . . they always seemed a little brighter from here."

She stole a glance at him, intently focused overhead. His deep blue eyes seemed so intense tonight.

Yves tried not to notice. She really did.

It was so easy to dismiss him as a fool in the beginning – an annoying roadblock on her path to the next big deal. But there was something about him – a kindness that she rarely came across in her line of work. No hidden agendas, code names, or double-crossing. He was an open book when it came to his emotions . . . and, quite frankly, it scared her.

Jimmy interrupted his stargazing to give her a soft smile and she found herself returning it. They were standing so close now she could actually feel the warmth radiating off him. She briefly wondered what it would be like to simply let go – to drop her defenses and just be in the moment.

Maybe it was something she ate or the smell of his cologne or the fact that the evening was starting to feel more and more like a date and less like an undercover operation.

Regardless, she found herself moving even closer to him. "Thank you for sharing this with me," she said, placing her hands on his shoulders and gently pressing her lips to his.

That second of contact seemed to stretch and expand around them. Jimmy wasn't sure he was even breathing anymore. The one thing he did know was that she had already started to pull away. On impulse, he lifted his hand to her cheek, his fingers tangling with the dark strands that had escaped her upswept hairdo.

Slowly . . . 

Slowly . . . he closed the gap between them.

As his hand traveled from her face, down her arm, to wrap around her waist, she sighed and circled her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. He was sure he'd died and gone to heaven. 

Kissing her was everything he had ever imagined. No . . . *better* than he had imagined. She was soft and sweet and warm and his toes were all tingly and electricity was shooting up and down his spine and it was the most incredible feeling ever . . .

When he finally pulled back to catch his breath, he lost himself in her beautiful eyes.

He couldn't help it . . . "I love you."

She froze for an instant then sadly shook her head. "You can't love me, Jimmy," she said, taking a step backwards. "You don't even know me."

He grabbed her arm before she had a chance to further distance herself. "But I do!" he protested. "You – you're smart and tough and . . . and you don't take crap from anybody."

"And I know the real you. The one who isn't always out for money . . . who sometimes does things just because her heart tells her to."

He softened his grip slightly. "You're afraid to let anybody in . . . afraid that it'll make you weak. But I know you care about the guys . . . and me. That's what being part of a team is about. It means you've got people who care about you too."

"I'd never let anything happen to you," he promised, wiping away a single tear that had escaped down her cheek. 

"But you deserve to know the truth," she whispered.

He shook his head and smiled. "You don't have to tell me anything. Nothing wrong with having a few secrets. Besides . . . " he murmured, gently touching the corner of her mouth, the memory of her soft lips rushing back to him, "I already know all I need to, Yves."

Her expression suddenly shifted and Jimmy had a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach that he'd just said the wrong thing. If only he knew what it was.

She turned toward the night sky – searching. She seemed to find her answer in the stars. After a deep breath, she faced him with a determined look.

"There *is* one thing I think you should know . . . "

***

Takoma Park, MD

10:53 am

Jimmy sat at his desk, halfheartedly making a paper airplane out of the article he was supposed to have written on the recovered disk. The night had ended with Yves simply dropping him off and driving away without much else being said. She really was a mystery sometimes . . . and a frustrating one at that.

"Hey Jimmy, think fast!" Frohike shouted, chuckling at his choice of words.

Jimmy looked up just in time to catch the envelope sailing towards his head. That's weird, he thought. He hardly ever got mail…particularly ones with no return address. Even weirder was what was inside - only a small piece of folded paper. Curious, he carefully opened it.

A name . . . written in black script.

Grinning, he tucked the paper in his shirt pocket.

Maybe solving this mystery would be worth the effort after all. 

****

END

Author's Notes: 

I didn't actually want them to get together at first . . . but then I watched the last scene of "Tango" one too many times and, well, this was the result. I also resisted the urge to make his secret code "1-2-3-4-5." Too "Spaceballs." g

A shout-out goes to Laura . . . who's a sucker for Jimmy too.


End file.
